“Of course we haven’t. That spider is only a coincidence. Uncle Billy didn’t say anything about the mine being in a cave.”
Larry was holding the candle, which he had not yet blown out, up to the side wall of the crevice. On the smooth surface of the rock there were marks; letters and words partly obliterated but still traceable. “Look here!” he called quickly; and this—filling in a missing letter or so here and there—was what they read:
THE GOLDEN SPIDER LODE
The undersigned claims sixty days to drive discovery tunnel and three months to record on this vein.
James Brock, Discoverer.
Dated October 16, ——.
The year number was effaced, but they knew that the hand that had scrawled this notice on the rock had been dead for nearly three years, so they could easily supply that.
“For mercy’s sake!” gasped Dick; “old Jimmie’s ‘discovery’ notice! It is the mine, after all. Talk about your miracles—why, great gracious! if that roof hadn’t happened to tumble down back yonder and fairly made us come and look for some other way to get out——”
“And to think that I was right here at the foot of this slide yesterday, and never once thought of its being a mine dump!” Purdick gulped.